Reminiscence
by Indigo-Jay
Summary: Story of what had happened 35 years ago. Neah's rebellion. Allen's betrayal. And Mana's curse. Allen had only been a Bookman apprentice for a few years before he was thickly entangled into the so-called holy war, in order to help his friend what would he had to sacrifice in the end?
1. Prologue

_**This is my first DGM fanfic so please have mercy on me. Well anyway the story is based on what might have happened all those years ago. It's a birthday present for Allen, though it's quite depressing. Please read and review. **_

_I do not own D. Grey Man. _

* * *

**Silence**

* * *

Incessant rain splattered on the black cobblestones, making the ground slick with mud and water. Sounds of thunders and lightning echoed above, as if god himself was on a rampage. The cold night air pierced his drenched skin, sending unnatural chills radiating across his body, tingling his torpid senses. The dark haired man glanced up at the black heavens, obscure grey clouds loomed over him, and there was not a glimpse of clear night skies, no stars, and no moon. Everything was suffocated by the layers upon layers of tempestuous clouds, assaulting the world below as if desiring to drown it in bitter desolation.

He laughed, although he wasn't entirely sure why, the laughter which sprung from his throat sounded choked and half insane. It was a shame. He had wanted to die below a starry night sky at least, but it seemed that was too much to ask of fate.

Pain lanced through his body, sharp and distinct. The man winced, clenching his teeth as he forced his battered body to continue forward. Stumbling around like a broken puppet with its strings cut while leaving a trail of crimson dying his tracks only to be swept away by the rain. He couldn't help but question himself, why? He was no longer sure. He was no fool; there was no way, simply no way for him to escape this nightmare alive, even though at the beginning he had thought of it as nothing but one among the many more nightmares he would have to endure until he drew his last breath. It would appear that his last breath was approaching faster than expected. His luck had long since run dry, in fact, he was surprised that it lasted as long as it did.

A sudden series of coughing lead him to stop, the man dropped to his knees, sending a splash of filthy water to mix with his bloodied ragged coat. His large sword dropped with a deafening clang as it clashed with the cobblestones. Blood stifled him and he managed to retch it out with an effort. The dark substance stained his hands like oil. Curious, he rubbed his fingers together, feeling the sticky fluid cling to his skin only to be washed away by the rain. Blood had stained his hands many times, but now it was his own blood that drips from his fingertips. How ironic.

Another wave of pain penetrated through him setting his nerves on fire, along with it was as something that felt as if it was tearing him apart from the inside. So this was the consequence of betraying one's 'family'. He screamed, clawing at his chest. The worn cloth torn easy under his desperate strength, revealing skin tainted purplish black with garnet red swirls that appeared like tattoos sprawling over his chest, expanding as the swirls slithered over his scars and bruises as if a growing nest of snakes, until they should consume him completely. The man knew what was happening, he was rapidly turning into fallen one of their clan, one whom will be cursed for eternity for betraying their Noah.

Still, he wasn't particularly worried. Removing his left hand from his chest he placed it almost tenderly on his stomach, which was missing half of its flesh. Fingers came away dark, dark red with something like strands of pink tissue sliding down his palms. His body was assaulted with so much pain he had turned off most of his nerve receptors with what little power he had left, this was to save himself from spending his last moments in excoriating agony that would drive him insane. As the once most powerful among the Noah, hopefully it wasn't too much to ask to die with some dignity at least.

Slowly, ignoring the shrieks from his body the man tried to stand. He couldn't. His legs felt weak and he could barely feel them anyway. Failing that, he reached for his sword, gripping the handle, he began the tormenting process of dragging himself toward an alley corner that he had spotted to be closest to him. He didn't want to die on the middle of some street looking like a demented beggar. A dazed part of him wondered why there weren't any humans running about, even though it was the dead of night with a tempest seething outside, surely they would be curious to find a battered stranger carrying, dragging, a huge sword walking the streets. Then he suddenly realized and a slow, harsh chuckle escaped his parched, blood encrusted throat.

He couldn't understand what had brought him here. He couldn't understand why he hadn't noticed before. Perhaps the pain and digression into a fallen one affected him more than he previously thought. However, most of all, he couldn't understand what his sub-consciousness expected by bringing him here. Yet here he was, brought through by his own arc gate. The man reached for the rough brick wall in front of him, fingers digging into one of the brick's edge and hauling himself upright. With more effort than he would like to admit, he managed to turn around all the while grimacing in pain and disgust until with a sigh he leaned his back against the jagged brick wall of the alley.

He leaned his head back, watching the grey sky rolling above him, hearing the roars of thunder and screeches of lightning, feeling the freezing rain slap down at him, smelling his own blood and sweat mixed with the aroma of earth, tasting the cold night air that tasted of… Nothingness. He was so tired. So, so tired. All he ever wanted was to sleep, to sleep for an eternity. To forget everything, to blend into the oblivion of silence and void… Yet… He couldn't. He still haven't finished what he started, instead he had failed, quite terribly too. Still, what did it matter, it wasn't as if he was seeking salvation in the first place, was he? The man tried to smile but found himself unable to lift the corners of his lips. His eyes were sad and desolate.

_I am sorry Mana. I am so terribly sorry for my selfishness, but it seems I can't keep my promise to you. This is the end for me. But, live on. Live for the joys, the sorrows, the pain, and the pleasures of life no matter how ephemeral they may seem… My brother. _

Neah Walker closed his amber eyes as unconsciousness swept him into a dark embrace.

* * *

A young man raced through the deserted streets of the abandoned city he knew so well. He couldn't have been more than eighteen at most and was of slender build, clad in a black trench coat, now drenched into a darker shade by the rain. The young man possessed exquisite yet almost delicate features that made him prominently conspicuous, his skin was a translucent ivory, his wide eyes gleamed like melting silver, and his dark copper hair was pulled back in a ponytail by a red-stripped ribbon. As he ran he scanned his surroundings with wary meticulous glances, and although he appeared to be distraught, his movements were graceful and lithe, showing hints of a fighter.

Gasping, the man stopped to catch his breath. He had been running for quite a while, searching through every passage, street and abandoned building without wasting as much time as he absolutely needed to. He knew he was short on time, he had to find him soon or it would be too late, the consequences of his failure would not be pleasant to dwell upon. Wiping away sweat and rain from his eyes, he turned, ready to continue his search, then stopped. The man glanced back at the narrow slit of an alley, it was shadowy and the rush of rain had washed away most traces of any tracks that would otherwise have been visible but there, towards the edges of alleyway were faint traces of blood, quickly disappearing.

The young man grinned and without another moment to waste slipped into the alley way like a flicker of shadow, determined to follow the traces of spilled blood no matter where it lead him, failure or death, or perhaps both…

* * *

Neah was woken by the sound of his name and the pain that nearly crushed him the moment the doors of consciousness were drawn open. The agony itself terrified him, threatening to consume his sanity along with everything else, a snarling beast slowly tearing him apart from the inside out. His body screamed with so much hurt that he could barely focus, yet at the same time the pain had almost became intimately familiar to the point he could no longer imagine a time where he was free from its clutches.

Curses spilled forth from his cracked lips, half of which was nonsense.

In his dying moments was it simply too much to ask for that so-called-god to at least take pity on him and let him die in a peaceful sleep? Neah wondered which bastard disturbed his last moments. It was bad enough that he had to die on a stormy day without ever seeing the stars again but obviously a death that doesn't involve someone slicing him up would be too easy. So, was it the Earl who had come chasing after him shouting bloody murder? Was it exorcists? Was it akuma? Or was it the numerous of other archenemies he had managed to gather in his short lifespan? Since right now, Neah is pretty sure he's holding the notorious position of public enemy number one.

"Neah…"

A soft voice, gentle, wretched, yet determined.

The man flickered open his exhausted eyes to glance lifelessly at the one who called him back to the world he had badly wanted to leave.

"Allen…" Neah whispered, causing blood to start streaming from his mouth. Lovely.

He closed his eyes briefly; when he opened them again the younger man was crouching beside him, displaying a worried expression tainted with fear.

"Neah, you are-"

"I know. I am turning, I don't have much time."

Allen paused for a moment, staring at him with anguished silvery eyes before nodding. Neah sighed, or perhaps coughed, glad that his friend understood the situation without extensive explanation on his part. Then again, they had always been very close, second only to the bond between him and Mana.

Affectionately, Allen raised a pale hand and swept away Neah's blood soaked bangs. It hurt him too much to see his old friend like this, it tormented him even more knowing that he might had in one way or another contributed to the outcome that now faced him in a pair of diminishing amber eyes. It was part of the reason for what he was about to do next, but there was also something else, repentance and guilt for all those who suffered while he pretended to be in ignorant bliss.

Allen had tried to run, he had tried to hide, but nothing could let himself escape from himself. He despised the war, yet no matter how hard he tried he couldn't but to be swept into this hurricane of bloodshed.

There wasn't much time left.

"Neah, take my body. I will protect your memories until you awaken again."

Neah stared at him, and then gave a grimacing smile. "Sure."

Allen couldn't conceal his expression of surprise at his friend's relative easy acceptance.

Neah half wheezed and half chuckled, spraying droplets of blood Allen that slipped down his snow-white cheeks leaving trails of red. "Were you expecting me to… deny? Why did you think… I came here… Allen? You know, even given the reasons for what I've done, not just anyone could kill as I had… without a shred of remorse. Allen, I am a monster." He paused staring intensely into the copper head's eyes. "And I am not… afraid to consume anyone to satisfy my hunger."

"Even if they are your best friend?"

"Yes… Monsters don't have friends."

"Good. That's what I was counting on." Allen gave him a smile, a true smile.

Neah wasn't sure what to say. Not that he would have the strength to say any words either way. However, he was sure he didn't deserve this. He was sure that Allen doesn't deserve what he had just signed himself up for. He was sure none of them did. Yet, were they not all mad puppets manipulated at the malicious clutches of sadistic fate anyway, so what does it all matter? Had god ever been fair to those whom he so-called blessed? Or perhaps cursed would have been a better word.

" You… do have… a… idea… of what… you are offering… right?" Damn. The last of his strength was leaving fast.

"Yes. I understand." Then to prove that he really did understood, Allen held up his left hand for him to see. It was covered in black scales, and in the center of the back of his hand was a cross shape scar burning with quivering green light.

Neah's eyes widened slightly. "I… see. The ring… you… took it off."

Allen glanced away, as the droplets of rain streamed down his face it almost seemed as if he was crying.

A tinge of guilt and pity slipped through Neah's defenses, he quickly locked it away.

Slowly, the younger man grasped Neah's grey hands in his own white ones. Startling silver eyes met a pair of molten golden. Both burned with resolve.

"Are you ready?" Allen asked, his own voice trembling, if only a bit.

Neah scoffed, or tried to. "As ready… as I'll… ever be."

The young man started to chant in an ancient language that had been long forgotten, his voice soft, melodious. The chant rose and fell until it melded into a song, a melody sung by a voice resembling an angel. The notes danced with the words, spinning, spiraling in the dark night, and silencing the even reverberations of the tempest. Within that evanescent tranquility, two souls combined into one.

* * *

_Then the boy fell asleep  
and one or two embers in the fading ashes of the fire  
flared up in the shape of a beloved face…_

She sang lightly to herself as she walked down the empty street. Her polished black shoes tapping on the cobblestones in rhythm with the splashing of falling rain. Her black hair was soaked, plastering to her petite face with slick strands dripping clear droplets of water down her neck and back. She spun around in a circle twirling a small pink umbrella, half faltering, stumbling. The girl giggled quietly.

_Dreaming many thousands of dreams  
spreading across the land  
Your silver gray eyes shine their light  
like stars falling down from the night sky…_

Her clothes were torn and filthy, what remained of a frilly white dress clung desperately to her small frame, it's frills dripping with blood. She stumbled into an alleyway as if she knows exactly where she's going. Her voice continued to sing; delicately, yet beneath, it was woven thick with coiling wrath.

_Even though countless of years  
turn so many prayers back to earth…_

Mauve eyes shimmered in the dim light. The girl watched silently at the two shadowed figures crouched beside the alley. One was leaning back against the brick wall, his features obscured by shadows, while the second had his back to her, yet she could distinguish his dark coppery hair well enough. She waited, watching them, herself concealed by casted darkness. Various facades of emotions flicked across her face. Sadness. Yearning. Anger. Detestation. Betrayal… Betrayal…

_I will keep praying  
somehow, love for this child please  
kissing the joined hands… _

It was a song she loved and was all too familiar with, after all she was the one of lyric writers. Every time she heard it, peaceful calmness settled over her, it was as if she could remember everything back then. The wide prairie skies… The singular notes of a piano… Laughter ringing in the wind… It was funny really, how despite the joy and passion it had sprung from, the last time it would be sung would be in the middle of an in a forsaken, bleak city whispering unspoken regrets.

All that she had hoped for had turned into ashes slipping through her fingers.

It was too late.

The girl stepped lightly out of the shadows and walked towards the two men she once loved and had came to kill.

* * *

Allen collapsed onto the wet ground, feeling coldness seep into his bones. He was gasping, clenching his fists against the pain incising through his skull. A groan escaped his lips; already his memories were becoming distorted, intertwining madly into one with Neah's. Reality shifted and danced before his eyes, time slowed, stopped, and then sprinted beyond grasp. He closed his silver eyes, wiling himself to focus. There was no time to lose, before the rest of the spell took effect he must escape to a safe place, somewhere where neither the Noah nor the Black Order could look for him. Nothing should be more important now than keeping his promise, Neah's memories will be safeguarded no matter what happens.

The young man propelled himself into sitting position, then with some effort stood up. His entire trembled in fatigue, the spell had drained him of most of his strength, and Allen couldn't help but doubt if he could even activate his innocence in such an abject physical state. He glanced at Neah, his friend, leaning despondently against the brick wall. From the barely visible rise and fall of Neah's chest, he was still alive, but barely. A dozen more minutes at most. After that the full force of Neah's memories would erode his own and the rest of the spell would come into effect, completely erasing the existence of 'Allen' from this world.

"What… are you still… waiting for? Get going!" Neah hissed, his rough voice barely audible.

"Goodbye." Allen gave a woeful smile; there was no going back now. He was sorry to leave his friend here, but there was no way to save him either way but his memories alone.

"Go where? Surely you can't just leave poor Neah here while you run off by yourself. That's not like you at all Allen…"

They froze. That voice. Impossible.

Neah had promised him that _she _wouldn't be here.

He had told him that _she _was… Eliminated with the others…

So how… Why is _she_-

"A simple hello would do, or were you guys not expecting to see me quite so soon?" Mockery and bitter sarcasm were laced into her words.

Allen sighed. Slowly he turned away from Neah and towards _her. _Lightning flashed, illuminating the petite girl standing in the center of the alley with sharp distinctiveness. From her glistening violet eyes to the bittersweet smile stretched across her lips. She hasn't changed at all since he last saw her. Concern flickered across his features at the sight of her blood-drenched dress but diminished, as he saw no wounds on her unblemished light grey skin. Allen's face twisted beneath his mask of frozen composure as he realized she was crying, despite the droplets of rain slipping down her face, he could tell from her expression, the look within her eyes and the acerbic smile, that the girl was weeping inside.

It hurt him, but he couldn't afford to show it.

"Good evening, Road." He greeted her politely.

Road stared at him, unblinking. "It's been a long time… Allen."

"Yes… I am sorry."

"No, don't be. It was my fault for not realizing sooner." Her delicate features distorted in bitterness, "I should instead apologize for my own delusions."

Road's purple eyes traced over Allen's half shrouded figure, when her eyes landed on his left hand she stiffened.

Wrenching laughter split through the air, "How disappointing… It was sweet, while it lasted." With that the girl reached towards her right hand where a white-gold ring encircled one of her slender fingers. The ring slid off with a twist and dropped silently onto the cobblestones, instantly sullied by grime.

The young man bit his lips, when he glanced back at the girl her eyes were predatorily ocher, the previously light grey skin darkened, and her hair rose above her like suspended wisps of black smoke shifting to invisible winds.

Allen swallowed. Neah had flashed him a look beneath his dark bangs, time was running out, it was also impossible for Allen to face against even a half-awakened Noah in his current condition. He needed to get away, and fast.

"What are you here for Road?" He asked coldly.

"To kill you. And that traitor over there… Isn't it obvious?"

"I don't intend to die."

"And I don't intend to fail... Not anymore."

The two glared at each other, icy silver met flagrant gold. Feelings, words transpired but remain unspoken. Clenching his teeth, Allen invoked his innocence, bearing with the pain that pierced through him from forced activation.

Strands of glistening silver wrapped around his body, materialized out of nothingness. They formed what resembled a cloak that was as insubstantial as mist and yet as firm as diamonds when touched. A matching silver mask carved in elaborate patterns concealed his face and expression. The silver cloak whipped out behind him like half spread wings, ready to take flight. Allen flexed his left hand, which had transformed from its previous form into cutting claws with nails extended like polished stalactites.

"I am sorry… Road. Please, let me go. It doesn't have to end like this." He entreated.

The girl smiled, she twirled the pink umbrella in her right hand, and during mid swing it transformed into the twin sword of Neah's with the exception that the blade was midnight black while Neah's sword was pure white. "It already has. I should have killed you from the start." She charged, her right hand gripping the large sword.

Before he could react, Road had swung the bulky blade effortlessly, aiming for Allen's head. He dived, barely missing a beat; he sought to decapitate her by striking for her legs. The petite girl flipped forward, landing behind Allen and thrusting the sword toward his spine. By then the young man had shielded himself with his innocence, backing away he grimaced, Road smiled in response to his distress and flicked her fingers. Allen screamed as he felt the sharp tips of Road's candles piercing through his skin, although crown clown had shielded him from the worst of the attack more than a few had slipped through his defenses. As expected of Road, she knew his innocence far too well.

Ignoring the pain, Allen attacked, claws extended. Road matched him move for move, dodging and stepping aside at the last moment, as if teasing him. She whipped around, aiming a kick at his stomach. When he evaded by moving right, Allen realized too late as the blunt side of the black blade slammed against his head with more force than he thought possible emitted from her slender frame. He crashed against the brick wall creating a small crater as pieces of stone rained down on his head, blood dripped from his mouth, he wiped it away messily. This was not going the way he had hoped. A headache awaited at the back of his skull ready to hammer him. Allen knew he was in no condition to fight, with most of his power expended on casting the spell and the majority of what's left on activating it; to fight was like committing suicide.

"Why?" She asked, coming towards him. The enormous black blade engraved with a white cross dragging behind her as she approached.

"Why what?"

"Why are you not fighting seriously?"

"I am."

She stood above him, water dripping down from her hair unto his face. Allen stared up at her, and for a moment time seemed to freeze, he smiled at her.

"Idiot. I gave you plenty of chances to strike, so why didn't you?"

Allen shrugged; he was tired, weak, in pain. A small selfish part of him wanted it to end, wanted to let the rain wash him away. He wasn't sure why, maybe he wasn't perceptive enough to notice, or maybe it was something else…

"It didn't seem fair." He answered.

Road laughed softly. The girl leaned down and with a small hand caressed his face; she tenderly brushed away his hair and stared into those silvery grey eyes that she loved so much. Allen stared back at her, trying to imprint her face into his mind one last time before everything ended.

"Why did you betray me?" She whispered.

He didn't answer, she already knew why.

Road closed her eyes. He could attack her now, he could disable her, not kill her, and he could escape. Yet, he didn't. Allen wasn't sure why, remorse? Affection? What was it that made him so still at her touch, so comforted even though he knew that she was soon to kill him with those same hands?

"I love you Allen, but I also love my family. This is revenge, delivered at the request of the Millennium Earl." Road gave him a chaste kiss on his lips, it tasted of blood. Then, before hesitation could erode her thoughts, she thrust the blade into his chest.

* * *

The obsidian sword flew out of the small girl's hands and clattered onto the cobblestones, before she could move to retrieve it a hand clasped around her neck, tightening. She was roughly pushed down on the ground, her movement restrained by the person on top of her. Road flicked open her eyes; a cocky lopsided gin greeted her. Neah winked while Road fumed. She managed to aim a kick at his side, and smirked as she saw his face contort in agony before her leg too was held down.

"Get going Allen, take... my sword…" Neah hissed, not looking away from the girl impeded beneath him. Taking a deep, painful breath he began to hum a slow, steady tune. The girl's struggles subsided involuntarily as the power of the Musician came into effect over her will. She glared up, amber eyes scorching with anger. "Is this anyway to treat a lady?" Road growled.

"What lady? You're just a under developed brat."

Neah chuckled silently at the girl's affronted expression that quickly altered to killer's glint.

"Child molester." Road accused menacingly.

Allen swept a glance at them before sprinting towards Neah's sword, which had struck into a brick ledge when Neah threw it to knock away the dark twin blade from Road's hands. It was stuck halfway into the bricks, with a considerable amount of effort Allen managed to pry it out. When his left hand came into contact with the blade handle; both shimmered with an eerily pure white glow. A current of electricity coursed through his body. The young man frowned, but took the blade in his left hand anyway.

Allen watched the two figures on the ground, as if sensing his concentration Neah looked up and flashed Allen with his trademark impertinent grin. 'See you' he mouthed. Allen nodded in reply. Then without glancing back, the young man stumbled out of the alley dragging the broad white sword behind him. Traces of his shadow quickly disappeared as curtains of rain draped over his silhouette.

Road watched silently as Allen vanished into the labyrinth of streets. She carefully kept her face blank, emotionless. The next time they meet, they would no doubt be enemies. He would probably have forgotten her, and she could only wish that she'd be the same. It would hurt too much to remember. This way, the next time they meet they would be nothing but strangers. The girl giggled.

"Why are you crying?" Neah asked her gently.

"I am not you idiot, it's the rain." She sniffed. "Besides, Noahs can't cry."

"… Maybe they can… maybe Noahs cry… after all." The man let her go, he rolled over lying on the ground, listening to the rain splashing beside him.

"Aren't you afraid I'll chase after him?"

"You won't."

Road said nothing. She crawled towards Neah and looked down at him with half lidded eyes. "You are dying." She stated matter of fact.

"Took you… long enough to… notice…"

"I would like to kill you for what you've done, but there would be no point since you won't live much longer anyways." The girl smiled at him plaintively. "The Earl… Would be sad to see you like this…"

"Is... he dead?"

Road scorned, "You wish. Though he is terribly hurt, which is why I am here. Else, he would never have sent me you know."

Neah smiled up at her, a true smile. "I am glad… I… didn't want to die alone…"

"By all means you should." The girl picked up the man's head and held him in an embrace. Then she sang, her soft voice only perceptible to Neah alone.

"Tell me… Why didn't you kill me?" Road broke the song, her tone curious.

Neah glanced at her with his fading eyes. "That's… a secret." He then closed his eyes, and didn't open them again.

She held him close; despite herself her grief was overwhelming. Tears streamed down her face blending with droplets of rain. The girl continued to sing, her voice heard by no one but herself.

"You are right. Maybe Noahs do cry after all."


	2. In Which Allen Enters A Game

**So the story begins. I'll explain some things first to avoid confusion. In this story the Allen is the Allen from 35 years ago, thus without innocence (for now), white hair, or scar. He is Bookman's first apprentice, the one before Lavi came along. Right now the Order and the Noah clan are still at war and Allen hasn't met Neah yet. **

**The story will be told from various characters perspectives, namely Neah and Allen. **

**Please tell me what you think (how I can improve), including any theories you may have which I may incorporate into the story. **

**Thank you!**

* * *

With an exasperated sigh the boy slammed the stack of papers on the wooden desk looking both tired and irritated as he stretched his lips into a thin smile. The middle-aged Asian man sitting on the wooden chair beside the desk paid him no attention, preferring to continue to look at the leather bound book held in his hands with transfixed attention.

"Master, this is the last of the files you wanted me to edit… is there anything else you would like me to do?" A pleading tone tinted the question.

With a sigh, as if he was the one who hadn't slept for the last three days going over dusty tomes, writing out endless reports, and searching over hundreds of shelves for specific files and, admittedly, getting lost for hours on end until a kindly library assistant had guided him back to civilization. The Asian man, his master, also known as the current head of the Bookman clan reluctantly closed the volume in which he had been reading and glanced skeptically at his apprentice.

"Why, would you like some more work, Allen?" He asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"…No, sir. If possible, I would like some sleep, or better yet, some food first."

After a few moments of silence with Bookman noticing just how worn out his young apprentice was, he grudgingly nodded his consent. Before his master could change his mind, Allen stormed out of the cramped office leaving a trail of fluttering papers in his wake. He was so ravenous he didn't even have the energy to slam the door as an expression of his discontent.

"Allen! I'll be setting aside Section #629's records for you to go through, come back after you've gotten some sleep, alright?"

The boy narrowed his eyes, great, he hadn't even left out of hearing range and already Bookman was piling up work for him to complete. Sometimes he wondered if the man was purposefully trying to strain him to death, well it sure was working considering his current condition.

With another exasperated sigh the boy exited the university library apartments where he and his master was staying, careful to lock the door behind him. Fresh chilly air greeted him, Allen smiled it sure felt great to see the sky again. He could barely remember the last time he had been permitted outside.

Tightly wrapping his woolen scarf around him, the boy skipped off the stone steps and made his way toward town. Sleep could come later after he had some long postponed breakfast first. Allen rarely complained about his food but the so-called eatable grey mush that the university cafeteria served was simply too much for him to handle after the thirteenth time he got a stomachache. Just thinking about it made the boy shudder, that pungent smell still haunted his dreams.

The leaves on the oak trees that lined up the sides of the street had faded into a sunset yellow, they fluttered on the knotted branches at the slightest breath of wind, some spiraling downwards like drifting fragments of color. Allen breathed into his hands, unfortunately he had forgotten about his gloves and his coat had no pocket that he was aware of.

He couldn't remember seeing the leaves change color, or even recall noticing the season change from spring to what appeared now to be autumn. The boy bit his lip; briefly wondering how many months had passed since he and his master left the Order. He hoped that the exorcists was alright, and despite the amount of punishment that had been bestowed on him since due to that incident he didn't regret what he had done. His master on the other hand had a completely different take on the matter of course.

A few droplets of water tapped lightly on his cheek. Allen glanced up and groaned. Perfect, he thought as he regarded with dismay at the heavy grey skies towering above him. As per usual his luck was somewhere down in the drains, it would appear that his meal would have to be brief if he did not want to be drenched, or worse, catch a cold. Right on cue, Allen sneezed.

* * *

"I haven't seen you in a while Luca! How have you been?" The friendly woman behind the counter asked, she was about middle aged with her hair strapped into a messy brown bun and was wearing a plain maroon colored dress.

Allen, slightly surprised, quickly recovered, "Good afternoon Mrs. Burnsfield, I've been well, thank you for asking." He replied smoothly, flashing a charming smile at the plump woman. Slowly he closed the door he had entered through behind him, hearing the tingling of bells in response. It had been quite a while since he had been referred to as Luca, Lucas Nathaniel Ashmore, a mason's son and the traveling apprentice to a foreign historian to be exact.

The Inn was filled with restless chatter and the slam of cups on wooden tables, laughter erupted frequently as well as a few cries of good-natured annoyance. Allen settled himself on one of the tittering stools facing the main counter with ease, sighing in content at the delicious smells seeping through from behind the closed door leading to the kitchen. His stomach growled shamelessly.

Mrs. Burnsfield laughed, "Why, haven't Mr. Bookman been feeding you lately? Gosh, you do seem even thinner than before!" She exclaimed.

"No time. I swear, that man's been trying to work me to death. One of these days I'll be found dead from being buried alive under piles of paper and books." Allen said sheepishly. "To tell you the truth, I can't remember that last time I had a decent meal, or sleep for that matter." He rubbed his eyes wearily.

"Now, that's no way to treat a growing boy! Really I ought to have a talk with that man!" The woman frowned in disapproval. "Don't worry Luca, I'll get you a good meal right away!"

"Thank you Mrs. Burnsfield."

"No need to thank me sweetie." With that the woman quickly disappeared behind the kitchen door, Allen smiled.

A tap on his shoulder alerted him to the bulky man standing behind him. The man had a bushy mustache, narrowed blue eyes, and budging muscles rippling beneath his stained worn-out clothing. He gave Allen a lopsided grin, displaying a set of crooked yellowed teeth.

"Hey boy, I heard from these areas that you are the best, care to join us for a game?"

There was no doubt on Allen's mind as to what he was talking about, hunger and tiredness aside he couldn't refuse a bit of pleasure when offered so plainly.

"Sure, I don't mind. You got cash I assume?"

The large man scoffed at the kid's arrogance. His eyes narrowed further, "Cocky, aren't you?"

"Haven't you heard confidence is built on abilities?" Allen had a mischievous glint in his eye.

The man chuckled darkly, "Well then kid, we'll see if you got the skills to match that tongue of yours."

"Don't say that I didn't warn you."


	3. In Which Neah Takes A Nap

**Thank you to those four who reviewed! If they didn't the story would likely have been dropped ^^' or experience a long, long delay. So please review and tell me what you think. Here's chap 2. **

* * *

The sun bleed crimson as it began its descent beyond the horizon, setting the sky aflame with flagrant colors. Shadows stretched lazily on the forest floor, shifting as whispers of a breeze tickled the leaves clutching desperately to the woody branches hanging above. Quite abruptly, a man burst out from the shrubberies. He was panting heavily, eyes wild, scanning the surrounding area with the meticulous fright of a trapped beast. The man had a hand tightly pressed to his stomach, which was bleeding profusely, staining his fingers in thick dark red fluid. Scratches and various wounds were drawn over his body and in between the tears on his torn, tattered clothing. He stumbled a few steps forward, leaving red blossoming footprints in his wake.

Sobs and gasps of pain escaped from his lips when he finally collapsed onto the brown grass. Scarlet fluid seeped out of his body at a alarming rate; the bubbling shimmered in the fiery rays of the sunset. Still, despite this he continued to crawl forward, glancing back every so often in the direction he had came from with an expression of horror and dread. Exchanging the object held tightly in his free hand to be held his teeth, the man clawed his way along the small trail leading deeper into the darkening forest. Suddenly he stopped; slowly the man raised his head upwards.

"You know it isn't very polite to leave a party without informing the host." The monster admonished him.

Desperately, the man tried to back away from the creature that had materialized seemly out of thin air. He barely moved an few decimeters before the monster grabbed hold of his throat and forced him onto his feet, both supporting him and slowly strangling the man in the process. He stared at the creature in horror, hands scrabbling at the unyielding metallic arm and the even more obdurate grip. He wanted to cry out, to scream, to plead even, yet to do so he would have to release the single object held in his teeth, and for some unspecified reason, he couldn't do that. Maybe because his comrades' lives had all gone into protecting the said object, maybe because despite the situation his fidelity to their cause hadn't quite wavered yet, or maybe because he feared the consequences that would befall him should he betray…

Still, none of it mattered as the monster smirked at him, and without hesitancy pried his mouth open with ease taking the object and bouncing it playfully in its hand. In the process, it had deliberately broken the man's jaw and now watched with amusement as the man writhed in its grip before finally becoming still, a look of defeat eroding his eyes.

"Now dear exorcist, I've decided in honor of you being the last of my guests I will conduct a special party, just for you." Needle like teeth flashed as the monster grinned at the man. Inside its dark ruby eyes swirled tendrils of black smoke as it gazed at the exorcist kneeled before him, head fallen in anguish.

"… The last… Does that mean?" The man whispered softly.

"Correct. Your comrades were quite entertaining I must admit, especially that blond haired female, her screams were almost as sweet as the inside of her guts." The monster crackled, clutching at its scaly belly in mirth.

A flash of overwhelming anger seethed through the exorcist, with strength he didn't know he possessed the man stood up glaring with coiling abhorrence at the grotesque creation before him. "H-How could you… Lara.. Damn it! Damn it all! You monster!" He struggled to charge at the demon though he had no weapon, his innocence had been broken before he had fled. The exorcist had nothing.

Before he could move another step the akuma came towards him and snapped both of his legs. He cried out, collapsing, gasping in an overwhelming torrent of emotions and piercing sensations. Tears streamed down the man's face.

"Aren't you glad exorcist that you'll soon be able to see your comrades again? There's no need to thank me, but if you must, I would simply be delight if you could scream for me." The monster's stale breath stung the man's skin like acid.

"Never." The exorcist rasped.

"We'll see." With that the demon began its work, soon staining the forest floor with splashes of red in all shades and variations of the color, the final result was like a painting, if the akuma do say so itself, and quite a masterpiece too. Like the abstract art of a insane madman, and as for the music that accompanied, only the sweetest symphony of course.

* * *

"Ah…" Neah groaned and collapsed on the ground, dead.

Well, not literally, more semantically. But to say the truth, Neah almost wished he was, really. It had been a week and uncle seemed adamant to work him to death. During the past week he had traveled all over the seven continents, and a couple of islands too near South America too. Well, maybe the tropical islands weren't too bad all considered, especially the girls… Never mind, the point was that he was overworked, and Neah hate to be overworked in any aspect. Sure, the ark made things a lot easier and shortened travel time considerably, but still, uncle should have had at least let him take his brother with him.

Neah sighed. Cross that out. He couldn't take Mana with him even if he had wanted to, Mana was too much of a … big softie… For things like innocence hunting. He scoffed, thus of course uncle had deemed it necessary to insert his older brother's share of work unto him, and really what did he do to deserve that?

A gentle nudge on his forehead altered him to the only being that cared about his general welfare in his opinion. Neah smiled and patted the little golden golem affectionately.

"Hey Tim, you hungry yet?"

In reply the said golem, Tim campy, revealed its rows of pointed teeth and mercilessly bit into one of his master's finger with a snap. Cursing, Neah managed to pry his already swollen finger from those deadly jaws and sent a withering glare in the direction of his naughty golem, Tim only grinned rebelliously at him. Cross that one out too. No one cares for his general welfare, not even his own creation apparently.

"I'm not food Tim. Though I get your point." Neah sighed again, running a hand through his thick curly hair. "Well, think of the bright side, as Mana always say. This would be the last piece of innocence we had to collect, then we can go home. Now, if only that akuma can come back…"

Looking evidently bored, Neah stretched out on the grass lazily, listening to the wind and playing with Tim campy by pulling its wings up in weird positions. He watched the clouds drift by in white fluffs, he chewed absent-mindedly on blades of grass, he twiddled with his fingers, he sang a song to Tim campy, he played guessing games with Tim again, and finally somewhere in the middle of it all Neah went into a dreamy sleep. In the dream he was back on one of the tropical islands and drinking fruit juice while watching pretty girls stroll by in scant clothing that the locals call "bikinis", truly, one of the most inspiring innovations of mankind.

"My Lord?"

"…ahun…"

"My Lord… I am finished."

"Ghun-hun…"

"My Lord are you awake?"

Neah slowly fluttered open his amber eyes.

"Jesus!" And with that the akuma was sent flying backwards, Tim campy whom hovered near fortunately dodged just in time.

Neah had a hand over his thumping chest, opening one's eyes with a akuma's face hovering in a unnecessarily intimate distance from one's own was obviously not good for one's heart. Seriously, if Mana saw him, he would no doubt be snickering away. The boy growled in annoyance at the thought.

His gaze strayed towards the setting sun, like a fresh open wound bleeding across the ocher sky. It appeared that he had slept for quite a while, more than he intended. Not that he's complaining, it was a pretty nice dream as far as dreams go, a welcome deviation from the nightmares he usual get.

The akuma, having managed to dislodge itself from a nearby, much less fortunate tree, kneeled on the ground in front of its young master. "I apologize for startling you." The creature said in a actual remorseful tone.

"The understatement of the century." Neah retorted dryly, "If you knew what I was dreaming about…" He began, thoughts drifting towards a very pretty girl who was about to do something pleasantly awesome with him with her lips. Yhea, it would not have turned out well. It was a good thing he woke when he did or else he would have been the laughing stock of the family for the rest of the month.

The boy shook his head, clearing away the sneering faces of his so-called siblings, "Well, do you have it? The innocence?"

The akuma nodded, rising from its kneeling position it dropped a small green crystal into Neah open hand. He smiled, fiddling with the stone in apathetic amusement before enclosing his slender fingers around the glowing object and crushing it. When he opened his hand again white dust like particles wafted away at a sudden autumn zephyr, seemingly to disappear within the torrent of shifting air.

"_Ashes to ashes_. Finally." Neah smiled brilliantly at the thought of going home, sure the mansion tend to be noisy, the result of having too many obstreperous occupants gathered in one place. Nevertheless, he couldn't wait to see Mana and tell him stories about his adventures. The thought of his older brother's awe struck face at his tales of hunting exorcists and finding innocence was enough to lift his mood. However, before that… His stomach growled in complaint. Tim campy, having heard the grievance, nodded vigorously in consensus. Neah laughed.

"Yo Level three, do you know of any towns nearby that you haven't destroyed where I could find some food?"

"Master, do you not wish to dine at the mansion?" The akuma asked, slightly perplexed as to why young master wanted to eat with mere humans.

"Rather I am not looking forward to returning to my constant diet of my dear uncle's hamburgers just quite yet. So? Surely you didn't destroy _all_ the towns in the vicinity?" The boy narrowed his honey-gold eyes.

"O-Of course not, only one town was destroyed. I do believe that north of here is a major human town."

"That's good! Well, you can go back if you wish. By the way, did the plan work well?"

The monster smiled at its master, "It worked very well My Lord, I was able to eliminate all the exorcists by myself with your plan. I've also left the pieces as you've specifically instructed, everything will soon be in motion."

"Delightful!" The British boy smirked.

"I am sure The Earl will be really pleased." The akuma nodded in accord, bowing as the young master dismissed him with a flick of his hand.

Neah turned around, beckoning to Tim campy as a crystalline window of light shimmered into existence before them humming with currents of energy, other fragments of light hovered around the gateway like multiple shattered pieces of stained glass. Abruptly, the boy stopped just short of reaching into the pane of radiant light. Tim campy twirled around in confusion. The akuma too, raised its head questioningly.

"By the way… you wouldn't happen to have some money on you right?" Neah turned round to glance slightly embarrassed at the akuma.

"… I have a few collected trinkets including a silver cross from the last exorcist I eliminated. Will that be sufficient My Lord?" The akuma supplied humbly, at the boy's eager nod it approached him and handed the substitutes for money into its masters' coat pockets. Then, respectfully it backed away with a bow.

"Thanks, I own you one akuma!" Neah said, satisfied. He really didn't want to attempt another eat-and-run experiment as the last attempt had ended quite painfully in his childhood memories. "Oh, and by the way, if you tell uncle about me forgetting my wallet again." The boy made a slicing motion across his neck.

The akuma swallowed.

"Just so we're clear." With that the boy hopped gracefully into the window of light, followed by Tim campy as a flutter of gold. The gateway shattered as they disappeared, its translucent fragments drifting in thin air for a moment before vanishing altogether, leaving only sparks of light like flickering embers spiraling towards the twilight sky.

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**In each chapter the story will develop a little and the viewpoint tend to shift to the person who will develop the story the most. I hope you guys like Neah's personality, since I am not too sure about his personality due to his limited screen time but he seemed the laid-back, more flamboyant type. :D**


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